


I Don't Think We're in 1962 Anymore

by mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark/pseuds/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Erik."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"I don't think we're in 1962 anymore."</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>"It's 2015."</p><p>"And there's still no flying cars. Unbelievable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Neither Charles Xavier nor Erik Lehnsherr were alcoholics by any means, but every once in a while, as individuals in their early thirties trying to hold onto their youth do, they willingly become intoxicated for the sake of their own enjoyment.

The two of them were in the middle of their search for other mutants, but it was Erik's 32nd birthday. They had to celebrate. In fact, Charles made it seem like the group had no choice: it was 1962, and they weren't going to have another opportunity.

He brought the entire group to the bar--Raven, Hank, Angel, Armando, Alex--everyone of age. He made Erik down as many beers as possible through the magical power of peer pressure, and everything seemed to be going well. Before the cake could be cut, and certainly before anyone became black-out drunk, an older man walked up to Charles.

"I see you're having fun," the man noted.

"Yes! You should join us! I'm sure Erik would love you!" Much of what Charles said was slurred and giggly, but it appeared as though the man understood him just fine. The man looked over at Erik chugging down a giant glass of some sort of alcohol while the rest of the completely hammered group cheered him on.

"Oh no, an old man like me could never handle something like this." The man paused. "I have something for your friend. Maybe that'll make up for it." He pulled out a strange-looking device and handed it to Charles.

The professor examined it thoroughly, and before he could thank the old man, he had disappeared. Charles shrugged, pretty unbothered by the strange occurrence, and proceeded to shout across the room at Erik. "Erik, some old bloke gave me something for you!"

Charles practically bounced over toward his friend, giggling just as much as the other man. "Look at this thing!" Charles handed him the device. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"What does it do?"

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Let's play around with it."

The two ended up tinkering with it, and nothing of interest really happened. Charles tapped some button, and something did end up happening.

It began to glow.

Charles couldn't contain his excitement. "Holy shit, Erik!"

As soon as he said those words, it started glowing brighter and brighter, until the world around them began to fade. Everything was white, and it looked like they were suspended in mid-air. The effects of alcohol almost immediately wore off, as both men began screaming. They both closed their eyes, which is about when the feeling of falling ended.

Erik peeked one eye open. He waved his arm around as he tried to feel around for the ground, or a person, or something. The ground was hard and uncomfortable, and he saw dust settling in the air around them.

"Charles," he hissed.

Charles sprung up and looked around him. Buildings were destroyed, and the ground was covered in rubble. The smell of smoke and dust permeated the air.

"What the hell happened?" he whispered.

Erik was shaking his head as something metallic-looking began zooming past them in the air. Their heads turned quickly toward the source of movement.

"There's no civilians in this region--wait, hold on." The metallic-looking thing floated down toward them. The head opened, revealing a man with brown skin and a shaved head. "James Rhodes, Iron Patriot. How can I be of service?"

Charles began looking through his memories, trying to understand what was going on. He turned to his friend. "Erik."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think we're in 1962 anymore."

"Sorry?"

"It's 2015."

"And there's still no flying cars. Unbelievable."


	2. Chapter 2

Charles and Erik were brought to the leader of the group that James Rhodes was part of. The entire team was covered in various cuts and bruises, but none more so than the man in navy blue spandex, who sustained the most wounds. Everyone was breathing heavily while they assisted some civilians into a vehicle to be transported.

The whole process seemed a lot more like a job than an act of good deed and kindness.

Rhodes brought Charles and Erik to the man in navy blue. "Steve Rogers." He shook both of their hands, and Charles' face just lit up. Every little boy across the United States wanted to be Captain America.

Of course, what Charles forgot, and what Erik certainly remembered, was that Captain America was dead. In the Arctic somewhere, probably stuck as a human popsicle.

"You're dead."

"Pardon?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

"You died. You crashed a plane into the Arctic. Charles told me he heard it on the radio."

"I--" the Captain stopped himself. "How do you not know?"

Charles rested his hand on Erik's shoulder. "Erik, it's 2015, remember?" he reminded him.

"Even if it is, people don't just come back from the dead," Erik hissed. "There's no way a dead man's walking, even if it is 2015."

"What do you mean 'it's 2015, remember'?" Steve crossed his arms.

Charles sighed. He didn't particularly want to explain this to him, or anyone for that matter. It was rather confusing to himself, and so he didn't know quite how exactly they jumped from 1962 to 2015. He was much too intoxicated when he and Erik were playing with the device. "We don't know how, but we believe we've been transported through time."

"Natasha," Steve called. A red-haired woman in black spandex walked over as she re-loaded her gun. "What's protocol on time-traveling civilians?"

She made a rather amusing face; she looked lost and confused at the same time. "There's no protocol."

"Which division should we send them to?"

"Up to you, boss." She walked--more like strutted, Charles thought--away toward one of the other team members. The team member, a younger girl, wore a red outfit and was taking care of another civilian.

"Nata--damnit." Steve jogged over toward her. "I don't know the US government as well as you do, Nat. You know, I was under the ice for decades."

"And I'm Russian. Why don't you ask Rhodey. I think he might know a bit more." Natasha turned to the girl in the red outfit. "Wanda, these two men are telling us something, and we need to figure out if they're telling the truth."

The girl hesitated. "I don't like doing that to people anymore."

"I know." Natasha grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "This is really important."

Wanda walked over toward Charles and Erik. She eyed Erik with suspicion, like she recognized him before, but she sighed and shook her hands nervously. "They want me to read your mind before you can leave."

Charles gaped his mouth. "Well, I mean--"

"By all means," Erik interrupted, smiling. "Please do."

"Alright." She took a deep breath and put her hands out to both of them. 

Charles felt something like hands reaching out to his mind. They tried to enter, but he wouldn't let them. Wanda frowned. "Please, just let me get it over with! I won't go into anything too personal."

She turned to Natasha. "They're not letting me in."

Natasha frowned and upturned her eyebrows. "You told me only people with your capabilities can do that."

"And people who have had serious mind manipulation, like Barton," Wanda added. "But yes."

Nat crossed her arms and faced the two of them. She was intense and intimidating. "Do you have powers?"

"Well, you probably haven't heard of this before--" Charles began rambling what was essentially his doctorate thesis. "But I have a different gene than you do. A mutation, if you--"

"You're both mutants?" Steve was listening in on the conversation. He began walking toward the two of them.

Erik and Charles immediately turned to panic. Only the government was informed of mutations--how did these people know about them?

Wanda, noticing the anxiety on their faces, walked up to them, very close to both of their faces. "I'm a mutant, too," she whispered. "I'm one of you."

"And the rest of you?" Charles spoke softly back.

"Test tube experiments, soldiers, and a sentient gem," Steve replied. "We call ourselves the Avengers."


	3. Chapter 3

The Avengers were not entirely sure what to do with Erik and Charles. They refused to give their last names, as though they were world-famous or something, and they were almost worse at adjusting to modern life than Steve.

The Avengers also had to deal with the fact that should their existence get out, anti-mutant politicians will be ramming it down their throats that they have a duty to protect the children from the harmful mutants, as though a substantial number of their team was not mutant, or artificially mutant.

It was almost too much for Steve Rogers to consider. As the leader of the team, he did, in fact, have a duty to protect everyone, but he also knew that hating people for who they are was dumb, and he was over the country being dumb. He had his fair share of dealing with dumb.

So when Steve discusses Erik and Charles's options, he does so without declaring that they are dangerous, simply because they can move metal around, or because they can read minds. He gives them the dignity he believes they deserve.

Of course it doesn't help that Charles whispers in Erik's ear, and Erik doesn't say a word. Charles merely has to read Erik's mind--the whole conversation is wordless. They were worse than married couples that Steve had had to deal with.

Steve cleared his throat. "Ahem."

Charles's head whipped to face Steve. "Sorry."

"We don't know how to send you back. We're going to be honest about that," Steve explained. "But we can make your lives more comfortable. We can direct you to family members that you knew, or friends."

"My family's dead," Erik stated, with such little emotion that Steve was amazed.

The whole room was eerily silent. Charles knew the implications of the statement--he'd known Erik for quite some time--but Steve had no idea what he was referencing. Steve could still sense years' worth of anger behind the sentences, years' worth of disgust and hatred.

"Mine is too," Steve said. "That's fine. We can find you somewhere else to stay."

"I own a bit of land in New York. Maybe Erik and I can stay there?" Charles suggested.

"We don't know if that land is still owned by you. It may have been handed over to someone else."

"Oh, no. Assuming my sister is still very much alive, the estate is probably still owned by my family," he explained.

After discussing possible options, Steve called Natasha in to do the research. She was better with tech, anyway.

Charles told Natasha the address. She typed it in carefully, methodically, as though she knew there was a definitive manner in which you must type in an address. When the picture showed up in the web browser, she nearly laughed. There was no way.

"You're lying to us. You don't own this." Natasha shook her head.

"Why would I lie to you?"

"You don't own Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

Charles laughed--well, he more breathed heavily out of his nose and grinned, but that was besides the point. "Yes, that would be mine."

"You're Charles Xavier? The Charles Xavier?" She raised an eyebrow. "You're Professor X?"

"Yes, I am." He nodded.

"Then who's this?" She pointed to Erik. "Surely he's one of your early mutant friends. I don't know anyone named Erik."

"Erik Lehnsherr." Charles shrugged. "I don't know what else you want me to call him by."

Natasha frowned. She recognized the name, and she certainly recognized the face, but she couldn't connect the two in a way that was familiar to her. Charles and Erik silently waited in their seats as she put two and two together.

All of a sudden, her eyes widened, and she stood up, pushing her chair by the mere act of sitting up. She stormed over to Erik with as much rage as grace in her eyes, and it was then that Erik truly understood the phrase that women are made of fury.

Erik was left with a red mark on his cheek and a question of _Why?_ left on his lips.

"Fuck you," she hissed.

She didn't really know him--even Steve could tell that. It wasn't a personal hatred; it was the mere notion of Erik's character. It was whispers of stories and news covering tragedy and failed missions that fueled this kind of anger.

"Nat," Steve warned.

"This asshole should be hundreds of feet below the Pentagon." She points at Erik with more spite than curiosity. "Do you know what he's done?"

"I haven't done anything." Erik shrugged.

"That's bullshit, and you know it. I know what you're up to. You act like a victim, but you're the villain in this story."

"Natasha, what the hell are you talking about?"

"God, I was so stupid. I should've seen this coming. What other mutant can manipulate metal?" She laughed cooly. "Don't you see, Steve? He's Magneto. Erik is Magneto."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things:
> 
> 1) I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update in months. AP chemistry and AP Us history have eaten up all of my time. This is probably a crap update, and I most definitely will edit it at a future time, but I wanted to get something out there so this thing didn't die.
> 
> 2) Thank you to anyone who left me comments. They are very much appreciated. I love any and all feedback.
> 
> 3) After AP testing in the first week of May, I will have so much time on my hands you guys don't even know this thing will be able to be updated so much more regularly.


End file.
